Right. Not only am I the only one not doing a Christmas
story (I volunteered don’t feel bad for me), but then they told me I would have
to come with a holiday menu and recipes.

Okay, let me explain. I joke about my cooking, but I can
cook.

For one person. It’s a different skill set.

Which makes sense because I’m single. I mean single, single,
in that, I’ve never been married. Never even got close. That’s right, I’m a
spinster. Although my mother preferred the term old maid.

Interesting sense of humor my mother had.

Another thing, I don’t entertain. I know some single people
do, I salute you, but I do not have the gifting of being a hostess. That ship
stopped with my sister, otherwise known as second coming of Betty Crocker.

Yeah, so why did I volunteer for Thanksgiving? Two reasons.
One, it was my mother’s favorite holiday. Two, I don’t always think these
things through.

So what did I come up with for my short story? Well I decided
to use the characters from one of my existing series. The Reboot Files. You
know the Scooby Doo type cozy. I call it Thanksgiving Rebooted.

So what’s it about? Well Irene and Troy, who are part of
this paranormal investigation TV show, sort of, who have just finished bringing
down these swamp zombies, yeah that swamp mud was no fun, and now they are
trying to help the owner of a toy dog rescue. You see the dogs are disappearing
and there’s this really big bird…

Oh forget it, here’s an excerpt.

“I’m afraid your clothes are not recoverable Irene.”

“That’s okay Patty,” Irene said, her good humor restored now
that she was clean, “I’ll bill Bernie.”

Troy pointed out, “Remember we’re getting time off out of
the deal.”

“That was for going to the swamp. Nothing was said about swamp
mud destruction,” Irene countered.

“I said I was sorry.”

“You tripped her into the mud?”

Irene was quick to come to her partner’s defense explaining,
“It was an accident. We were running from these zombies…”

“…not the brain eating kind,” Troy clarified.

“No, just the annoying chase you around the swamp kind.”

Patty’s expression was a study between confusion and horror.
Seeing this Irene decided not to even try to explain what would take way too
long to explain.

“The important thing is that I’m clean now. Patty how can we
help you with your ‘weird’ problem?”

Patty seemed reluctant to drop the swamp zombies, but just
then an inhuman earsplitting screech was heard.

“Oh no it’s back!”

Patty scrambled outside with The Reboot Team hard on her
heels.

“It’s in the kennel area,” Patti cried as she ran down the
steps of her porch.

Irene and Troy ran after her, and Troy got his camera ready.

They were half-way across the yard when suddenly a large
shadow passed overhead. The Reboot team stopped and looked up and saw something
big. Really BIG. Making loud birdlike screeching noises and…sparkling?

“Troy, what is that thing?”

“It’s not a turkey.”

“Not funny.”

“Well it does look like a bird,” Troy defended as he filmed,
“Darn, it’s too far off. Whatever it is, it sure moves fast.”

He brought down the camera and Irene said, “Well you got
pictures of it.”

“Not that it will do much good.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no point of perspective. We know it’s big, but
because of camera tricks it could be dismissed as a fake.”

“That’s…convenient. Let’s catch up with Patty.”

It took them a few minutes to reach and then navigate the
kennels where the dogs were all barking and wagging their tails excitedly. Irene
looked around and frowned. Troy noticed but before he could ask her anything they
saw a small group in front of a kennel cage. The heavy chain link door was off
the hinges and the cage was empty.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

For any of our readers who haven’t heard, the authors of
Cozy Mystery Magazine have gotten together to write a compilation of short Christmas
stories called A Cup of Cozy 2. As a special treat for our readers, today and every Wednesday until Christmas, the book will be offered free.

Today I’m going talk a little bit about my story,
called Malicious Intent. This story is an introduction for a new cozy series I'm working on.

I’m sure by now our blog readers know that I love Agatha
Christie’s character, Miss Marple. I wanted an older sleuth in my books, but I
also wanted a younger woman and a child. After some debate, I decided the main
character would be a younger woman named Lily Kennard who is in her early
thirties. She’s personal assistant to a wealthy widow named Daphne Beasley. Her
two partners in crime are eighty-year-old Florence Beasley (Daphne’s
sister-in-law) and ten-year-old Maddie Beasley (Daphne’s granddaughter).

Lily retired from the Navy. She took on the job of personal assistant
because she wanted

a total life change. She has an interesting past that
challenges her walk with the Lord. Over a period of time, I’ll be
revealing her background and the reasons she struggles emotionally. . .and she
also has romance in her future.

Lily is interesting, but it’s Florence who brings life to
the stories. She’s the coolest and most interesting not-main-character I’ve
ever written. Her personality takes over the pages. And she’s old enough not to
care what people think, so she’s fun to write.

Here’s a short excerpt from my story:

Florence frowned. “You say Martin Weatherby will be there?
Not just little kids? I don’t feel like listening to a bunch of little girls
screaming. Makes me clack my dentures from stress.”

“Yes, Mr. Weatherby will be there,” Maddie said. “It’s the
adult and children’s choirs, plus all the people in the play.”

Florence tapped her red polished nails on the granite island
top. Maddie stared at her like an eager little puppy. I began humming the theme
song from Jeopardy.

“You know what? I think I’ll go,” Florence said.

“Oh, yay!” Maddie clapped her hands, and then began putting
dough on a cookie sheet.

Florence’s sudden change of mind made me suspicious, but
when Maddie flipped a raw cookie on the floor, I became distracted.

“Okay!” Maddie cleaned the dough off the floor then
scampered from the room. Florence spooned raw cookies on the last pan, humming
Silent Night under her breath.

“I thought that song annoyed you,” I muttered as I removed
another batch of finished cookies from the oven.

“That was five minutes ago. As an elderly woman whose mental
faculties have been questioned over the past year, it’s my prerogative to
change my mind at a moment’s notice. It’s important to be consistent in my
inconsistency.”

“Right.” I moved cookies from the pan to a cooling rack. “I
forgot about that dementia thing you claim to have. Whatever. So, spit it out.
Why are you suddenly so happy and eager to go?”

Florence lifted her chin and put her hand on her chest. “I’m
going to do what my dear grand-niece asked. Attend the Christmas party. That
way I can miraculously morph from Scrooge to Tiny Tim and bless everyone.”

“The day you become Tiny Tim will be the day I become
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” I faced her over the island. “You have an
ulterior motive.”

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Come along with me for a ride to visit the Chattanooga Choo-Choo. My next book Chilled in Chattanooga will be available to buy from Amazon and Barnes and Noble any day now. Take a look at the cover. Do you see any sites that you recognize?

Back Cover: Trixie Montgomery, her best friend Dee Dee, and her beloved Nana are out to experience the city of Chattanooga, while Trixie attends a writer’s conference and works on a murder mystery for Georgia By the Way. But who would have guessed that Trixie would not only uncover a body in the deep freeze, but also end up a prime suspect in the murder case? With a killer on the loose, Trixie and Dee Dee have to work fast to find out who is responsible for the crime before Trixie ends up getting locked up for a murder she clearly didn’t commit, but is surely being framed for! Join Trixie and Dee Dee as they, along with Trixie’s Nana, sort through suspects and get to the bottom of yet another murder mystery, while still finding time to enjoy the sights in Chattanooga.

Chapter One:

Chapter One

“You’re
not serious? We were at her house just last night.” I pushed my glasses a
little higher. Having just turned fifty I’d decided wearing glasses wasn’t so
bad after all. I looked at it as making a fashion statement. I couldn’t believe
Sylvia was gone. “I’m
serious as a dog after a bone, Skye. Stabbed right through the heart,” Honey
said.

Honey’s
high-pitched voice shot though the phone and pulled me back to earth. “Skye! I
said I thought the Buckhead Diva would live forever. I don’t even think anybody
really knew how old she was. She sure wouldn’t tell.” Honey should know because
I’d heard her ask Sylvia Landmark her age on more than one occasion – with no
success. I guessed she was about twenty years older than me, but seventy-five
was still too young to die in my book.

My
mind conjured images of the decorating job we’d just finished for Sylvia. I do
believe it was one of my best. I’ve been the owner of Stylish Décor for over
ten years now and Honey Truelove, my best friend and assistant, has been with
me nine of those years.

I
wondered what my husband Mitch would have to say about the turn of events. He
spends a great deal of time traveling the world to find unique and distinctive
pieces for his antique shop. He was due to arrive today from a trip to Europe.

“Skye!
Did you hear me?”

“Uh,
yeah, I did Honey. I was just thinking about the work we did for Sylvia. She
was quite alive last night at the party. Who would have thought she’d be dead
this morning? Well, she had to be close to eighty; one can’t be expected to
live forever. Did you say she had a heart attack?”

“Good
grief, sometimes I wonder if you don’t tune me out. I said she was murdered.” I
pictured Honey with her customary hand on her hip and signature Cherry Red
lipstick pout.

I
supposed she was right. I did tune her out at times, in my defense that was for
my own sanity. Did she ever love to talk. But this is one time I was glad she
had the scoop on Sylvia. “Murdered? Who in the world would want to murder an
old woman? I admit she could be snooty and condescending at times, but I
wouldn’t think that’d be enough reason for someone to kill you.” My glasses
slid down again. I need to get these
things adjusted.

“Hold
on just a minute, Skye, I need to feed Sam.” I heard her rummaging around in
the kitchen. Sam is short for Samantha. With Honey’s grown children now on
their own, she treated her like a child. I could make out her words over the
sound of kibble filling the Yorkie’s bowl. “You have to admit she was on a roll
last night at the party. I don’t think there was anyone there she didn’t
offend. Except us of course.”

I
agreed she took jabs at more than one person. “That’s because we were on her
good side since we’ve just finished redecorating her house. She especially
loved the Elizabethan sleigh bed.” She raved on and on about our artistic
skills and how pleased she was with our work. The party was to show off her
newly acquired antiques. She didn’t mind rubbing a few people the wrong way. I
imagined by the end of the night they’d wished they hadn’t come.

“Speaking
of the job, do you think we’ll still get paid?”

“Honey,
how tacky!” I didn’t admit I was wondering the same thing. We’d been paid an
advance, but she still owed several thousand dollars. That wouldn’t be the
first or the last time I’d associated “tacky” with Honey. She grew up in the
mountains of North Georgia where country was cool. You can take the girl out of
the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl. She lived in Vinings, not far from Mitch and
me and had been my right hand girl for years.

“Hey,
I’ve never said I’m not tacky. Go on, tell the truth, aren’t you worried?”

Honey
married into money, but her social skills had never caught up. When I started
my business wanting to make a go of it on my own, I could only pay minimum
wage. Honey volunteered to help. She didn’t need the money, but her second
husband had just died and she was looking for something to keep her busy. She
turned out to be a little spitfire and a big asset to me, even if she was a
little rough around the edges. With Honey at my side, my business took off and
not only prospered, but I was now able to pay her a decent wage.

“I
am concerned, but it’s still not appropriate for us to worry about ourselves
considering the circumstances. Hey, I need to finish getting ready, how about
meeting for lunch at the OK Café.” This well-known eatery was located at the
corner of West Paces Ferry Road and Northside Parkway. If traffic wasn’t bad
it’d take us less than twenty minutes to get there.

The
parking lot packed, I fought for a space, barely beating a little Mini Cooper.
I guess I should’ve felt bad, but they say all’s fair in love and parking lots.

I spotted Honey right away. It was obvious
she’d been shopping in the junior department again. She’d donned a sky blue
dress that barely reached her knees. She paired the outfit with chocolate
high-heeled boots. Being petite, she half-way pulled it off. Was I jealous?
Just a little, but then I remembered I wasn’t a teenager anymore and didn’t
need to dress like one. My own outfit of brown pants and beige blouse worn with
ankle boots were more my style.

“Honey!”
Headed in the same direction, I raised my hand and vigorously waved. She did
the same and we arrived at the entrance simultaneously.

A
myriad of delectable aromas greeted me as I entered. The OK Café was the place
to go if you wanted down home, slap-yo-mama cooking, as Honey would say. Black
and white fifties décor took me back to my childhood. The walls were covered in
old 45 records and posters of singers from a time when a simple way of living
still existed.

After
a short time, a waitress wearing a white dress and a black and white checkered
hat seated us in a booth with enough room to accommodate a family. We’d have
plenty of elbow space. “May I help you ladies?”

“Skye,
you order first, I want to study the menu.” She put on her reading glasses and
raised the menu.

I
smiled at the waitress, Dorothy, according to her nametag. She returned my
smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I could only imagine how tired she must be
from standing on her feet all day. “I’ll take a vegetable plate with black-eyed
peas, turnip greens, macaroni and cheese, and squash casserole,” I watched her
scribble on her notepad, “oh, and don’t forget a piece of your cornbread.” The
cornbread at the café was to die for. She took Honey’s order as well, stuck the
pencil behind her ear and retreated to place our order.

“What
else did you hear about Sylvia?” I leaned in so others nearby wouldn’t hear our
conversation. The gesture was lost on Honey. When she spoke in her usual voice
a gym teacher would covet, all eyes turned in our direction.

“Well,
I heard that her house was broken into. The side door was busted open. You
know, John Abbot, the city councilman who lives next door to Sylvia?” I nodded
and she continued, “He was the one who found her.”

I
sat back and shook my head. “How in the world did you find that out?”

I’ve
got my ways.” She grinned like a Cheshire cat.

The
waitress brought out food and the conversation abated while we sated our
appetite. Half-way through our meal Honey saw someone over my shoulder and
waved. “Over here, Amber.” I turned around and saw Amber Styles, competitor and
rival in the decorating business. She’d decorated Sylvia’s house several years
ago and let it be known she wasn’t happy we redid her work.

“Honey!
Don’t ask her…”

It
was too late. Amber marched toward us like a scorned woman on a mission.

“Hi
Amber.” Honey seemed unaffected by Amber’s stone-cold stare.

“Fancy
meeting you here,” she directed her comment to me. I wasn’t interested in a
confrontation, but I’d determined she wasn’t going to get my goat.

“Uh,
hi Amber.”

Before
she had a chance to answer, Honey blurted out, “Hey, did you hear about
Sylvia?”

“Yes,
I did. And after the way she acted last night I wouldn’t be surprised if
someone clocked the old biddy. Thought she had to cut everyone down to make
herself look bigger. Except for y’all. Makes me wonder what you did to wrap her
around your finger.”

She
looked me up and down. “Love your outfit. You’ll have to let me know where you
bought it.” I didn’t think she wanted to know so she could run out and buy one
just like it. She turned from me to Honey. “And Honey that was some story you
spun about Blackbeard’s writing table.”

A
most handsome specimen of the human race came up and stood beside Amber. Her
demeanor instantly changed and she shot him a hundred watt smile, “Well, I’ve
got to go.” She gave a princess wave as she walked off with his arm around her
waist.

“Wow,
how did she snag him?” Honey shook her head. “I heard she’s been going to AA
meetings. Maybe she met him there.”

I
leaned forward again, “AA to meet men?” I mentally slapped myself on the wrist.
I’d be the first to admit I’m no goodie-two-shoes, but I tried to do what’s
right.

“That’s
not what I meant, but I wouldn’t put it past her!”

Being around Honey made it hard at times. She
was a walking gossip mill. It would be easy to blame her for being a bad
influence, but I knew better. But knowing better didn’t keep me from struggling
every day to keep on the straight and narrow.

“Never
mind. Speaking of Blackbeard’s desk, why did you spin that tale last night?” It
had been so late when we left for home last night, we hadn’t had a chance to
unpack everything that had happened at the party.

“Well,
you said it was rumored Blackbeard owned it at one time. I just wanted to liven
up the intrigue a little and the distraction was well-timed. Sylvia was getting
way out of hand dissing everyone.” Honey looked in her hand-held mirror and
applied the Cherry Red shade she wore year round. She smacked her lips together
and blotted them on a Kleenex. I think Honey must be the only person left on
the planet that still does that.

“Listen,
I’ve got to get that desk back to Mitch’s warehouse.” I changed the subject back
to our business at hand, more worried than I wanted to admit.

“Why?”
Honey asked. “He’s got plenty of other pieces he can sell.”

“I
kind of borrowed it from the shop before asking his permission and now he has a
buyer for it. I didn’t think he’d miss it. I use artifacts from there all the
time and tell him later, but he said somebody called about that particular
piece and he couldn’t find it. He finally thought it might be in the warehouse
and he was going to look when he got back from his trip. I’m afraid if I don’t
get it back Mitch isn’t going to let me use anymore of his pieces. And I rely
on his expertise. Sylvia said she didn’t like it anyway and wanted me to take
it back.”

“How
are we going to do that? The police probably won’t let us in.” She nodded to
the waitress acknowledging we were ready for our checks.

“Probably
not, but I still have the key.” I held it up for Honey to see.

She
shot me a grin. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh,
no.”Honey with an idea was as dangerous
as a hive of angry bees.

“What
do you have in mind?” I waggled a brow, signaling for Honey to wait until the
waitress refilled our tea glasses. I didn’t know what she was going to say, but
was sure the waitress didn’t need to hear. We were already planning to break
and enter a crime scene.

Before
Honey could continue, my phone played the song “Redeemed” by Big Daddy Weave. I
rummaged around in my pocketbook and looked at the name of the caller. It was
Mitch. “Hello, Sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m
doing fine, but I’ve got some bad news. I won’t be able to come home tonight;
it’s going to be tomorrow before I’ll make it.” I knew he was sorry he couldn’t
come home. My husband loved to travel, but when his business was over he was
ready to come back home to our condo on Peachtree Street.

“I’m
sorry hon.” And I was sorry, but my mind was whirling like a hamster on a
spinning wheel. This would be a great time to get the culprit desk back to the
shop. I cut it short so I could tell Honey the news.

“Mitch
has to stay another night and won’t be home until tomorrow,” I said.

“Stuck
in airline traveler’s vortex?” Honey shook her head.

“His
misfortune is our opportunity. It gives us time to get that piece back and return
it to the warehouse.”

Honey’s
face lit up and I could almost see the light bulb over her head. “Let me tell
you about my idea.” She looked around. “Okay it doesn’t look like anybody’s
paying attention to us.” She leaned in. “You know those black tights we bought
when we signed up for the gym?”

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Jodie and Laureline are best friends and accidental detectives who solve a two-for-one mystery in my short story, Coffee, Tea and Larceny. The two women kick off the twisted tale at an annual Lady's Christmas tea at their church, an event lorded over by Claudia Hofstadter, a manipulative, viper-tongued control freak.

Laureline decides to accent her vintage outfit with a vintage fur muff, an uber-cool find at an antique store. According to Astor Place Vintage.com, "Muffs were mentioned in text from the 1400s, and one of the earliest images of one is in an engraving from 1588. In the 1600s both men and women used muffs."

This cumbersome fashion accessory was typically sewn together from sable, ermine or grey squirrel (for women) but some were constructed of silk or satin and adorned with lace and ribbons. The practical use and application, aside from a fashion statement, was to keep the wearer's hands warm. Women used them to hide small items in the interior (a perfect scenario for any mystery writer). Some even used them as pet carriers for small lapdogs!

“Since when? We’ve never had reserved spots at the church.” But sure
enough, I looked up. A new sign on the fence proclaimed the news. This spot was
indeed reserved for one--Claudia Hofstadter. Imagine that.

Claudia’s voice roared over the engine. “What’s taking you so long? I’ve
got things to do. Move it!” She backed up, her left hand beating an angry Morse
code against the driver’s side door.

Jodie gulped, threw the car in reverse and backed out. Without so much as
a thank you, the woman roared into the spot and was out the car faster than you
can slap a tick.

Face flushed, my friend lowered the window the rest of the way and stuck
her head out. “Winnie, where can we park?”

The woman pointed to the farthest reaches of the lot. “There are a few
places out that way, to the left of the main lot. You’d better grab one quick
though or you’ll have to park next to the cow pasture. Sorry about having to
kick you gals out.”

Sure enough we soon found a spot in the area Winnie recommended, but
someone else got to it before we did. So Jodie cuddled her Buick Riviera up
next to the cow pasture. And winter cut us a break and the smell wasn’t nearly
as bad as it could have been if the temperature were different. Yay, winter!

Before I stepped out the car, I glanced in the rearview mirror to make
sure my hat was straight.

Jodie glanced over. “I love that outfit. And that muff is a crazy nice
touch. Where did you find it?”

I pulled my hands from either side and held it up. “Don’t you remember? I
bought it last year at that antique shop in Round Top.” I lifted it to my nose,
silk tassels swinging. “It kind of smells though.”

“Who cares?” Jodie laughed. “It’s the look that counts.” As we walked,
she smoothed her vintage green wool suit and slipped on her gloves. “Ready for
our grand entrance?”

A Cup of Cozy 2 offers six cozy mysteries by a variety of super duper cozy authors, my peers and friends! And there's a bonus. This book is a wealth of yummy Christmas event recipes! After you read it, keep this one in the kitchen, girls!

Linda
Kozar is the co-author of Babes
With A Beatitude—Devotions For Smart, Savvy Women of Faith
(Hardcover/eBook, Howard/Simon & Schuster 2009), Misfortune Cookies
and Just Desserts (“When The Fat Ladies Sing” cozy mystery series,
Print, Barbour Publishing 2008), and Strands of Fate (Hardcover/eBook,
Creative Woman Mysteries 2012). Her cozy mystery series again published and
expanded as ebooks at Spyglass Lane Mysteries, MacGregor Literary from
2012-2014, and in September of 2014 Linda indie-published and the continues the
series: Misfortune Cookies, A Tisket, A Casket, Dead As A
Doornail, That Wasn't Chicken, and Felony Fruitcake. Her
latest foray into indie publishing, produced Alligator Pear, (a gothic
historical romance, 2013), Moving Tales, Adventures in Relocation, (a
nonfiction anthology 2013), and Doomsday Devotions (an end times
devotional 2014). Linda is an active member of Cozy Mystery Magazine, which
publishes an annual Christmas anthology of its contributing authors, A Cup
of Cozy (Short Mysteries and Holiday Recipes, 2013) and A Cup of Cozy 2
(Short Mysteries and Holiday Recipes 2014). Her speculative fiction story, Aperture,
will release in an anthology book titled Out of the Storm
(HopeSprings Books 2015), the proceeds of which will be donated to the ACFW
Scholarship Fund. In 2003, she co-founded, co-directed, and later served as
Southwest Texas Director of Words For The Journey Christian Writers Guild.
She received the ACFW Mentor of the Year Award in 2007, founded and served as
president of Writers On The Storm, The Woodlands, Texas ACFW chapter for
three years and continues on the board. In addition to writing, Linda has
served as Lead Host of the Gate Beautiful Radio Show, on the Red River Radio
Network/BlogTalk Radio since 2010. She and her husband Michael, married for
over 25 years, have two lovely daughters, Katie and Lauren and a Rat Terrier
princess named Patches.